


Midnight Snack

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-20
Updated: 2015-03-20
Packaged: 2018-03-18 17:53:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3578538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fíli makes a wrong turn, and Bilbo’s totally scandalous.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Midnight Snack

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BonnefoyBaggins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BonnefoyBaggins/gifts).



> A/N: Drabble for bonnefoybaggin’s “Filbo” request on [my tumblr](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/). Special thanks to imera, my muse, for injecting me with inspiration as usual. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Bilbo faces a very restless night, which is exactly what he was expecting. 

It isn’t just that thirteen dwarves have shown up quite unannounced, or that all of those miscreants are currently bedding in his house, or even that they expect him to go on some mystical quest—a most _improper adventure_ —and slay a dragon, of all things. It’s that they’re so very _uncouth_ about the whole thing, stomping around in their muddy boots and mistreating his good dishes and wolfing down every last bit of his food. And on top of all that disgusting misbehaviour, Bilbo isn’t nearly so disgusted as he should be. 

He should be rather angry at the lot of them, most displeased, and ready to kick them all out in the morning. Instead, he’s tossing to and fro beneath the covers and trying desperately to convince himself that’s how he really feels. They’re crude barbarians, every last one of them. They’re all much too big and hairy. There isn’t a single exception, especially not the trim, golden-haired one with the intricate braids and brilliant eyes. Except that Bilbo’s completely aware he’s lying to himself, and that one dwarf was actually rather _devastatingly handsome,_ quite possibly the most attractive individual Bilbo’s ever seen in his life, and probably the most beautiful person who he ever will see or has even ever walked the earth. 

Fíli, Bilbo thinks his name was. It’s still difficult to keep them straight, so many as there were and so equally obnoxious as they all seemed. Fíli was quite as bad, singing loudly about trashing his dishes and tossing them about like some sort of game. Despite Fíli’s stunning good looks and alluring smell and sultry voice, there should be absolutely nothing attractive about him, and Bilbo has to tell himself over and over again absolutely _not to touch himself to thoughts of Fíli._

He whimpers and rolls over again, burying his face in the pillow. The room is utterly pitch black, which only makes it easier to daydream, receding into his own head to remember a particularly fetching smile. Such cute dimples, Fíli had, and somehow the yellow scruff around his chin only highlighted that. At least his hair, unlike the others, was quiet well brushed, his beard not too long, his braids rather striking and delicate-looking: clearly proof of good grooming habits and solid aesthetic taste. Bilbo can’t help but wonder what it would be like to sit in the young dwarf’s lap and twist such braids into his long, doubtlessly silk hair—

His door cricks. Bilbo stiffens immediately, which brings to attention where his hand is, which is certainly not where he left it. He jerks it back up and away from his crotch, stuffing both hands under the pillow in an effort to control himself—proper hobbits certainly don’t do such things, especially over such hooligans and when one has houseguests. 

The door creaks louder. He’s quite certain someone’s opened it, except it’s too dark to see and he’s too frightened to look anyway. One of the dwarves, perhaps? Coming to fight him, to see if he’s really more than the grocer they think him? Or perhaps they’re still hungry and plan to eat him up, which is, of course, ridiculous, but only so ridiculous as thirteen dwarves busting down a hobbit’s door in search of a burglar. 

There are a few careful footsteps, and the next thing Bilbo knows, his bed jerks aside. Someone yelps in pain, and then the real commotion starts: a giant weight falls over Bilbo and sends him crashing over the other side of the bed, all twisted up in the blankets. Bilbo goes with flailing limbs and a tiny cry of shock and fear. His hand reaches out and snatches at the first thing it feels—a chunk of fabric. His left curtain jerks right out of the clips and lands just behind his head, the moonlight streaming in. Bilbo’s still seeing stars from hitting his head on the floor. 

Then he realizes that a dwarf is, indeed, lying atop him, and of course, with all of Bilbo’s bad luck, it would have to be the one dwarf he was thinking of. Fíli blinks in surprise and looks about the room, muttering in a hushed whisper, “This isn’t the kitchen!”

Bilbo tries to snap that it’s the bedroom. But on the first try, nothing comes out of his mouth. Fíli’s sitting on him, heavy crotch resting on his, thick thighs spread over Bilbo’s waist, one hand to either side of his head. Even though it’s still very dark, Bilbo’s sure his blush must be visible, because he feels like he’s going to burn himself to a crisp. 

He mumbles belatedly, “This is the bedroom.”

Looking back at Bilbo, Fíli grunts, “Oh.” Then he sheepishly adds, “Sorry about that! I just wanted to see if you had more of those delicious seed-cakes about.” And of course, his voice is just as heavenly as Bilbo remembers it, and he has to go and add with that distressing smile of his, “I don’t think I’ve ever had baked goods so wonderful! You’re an impressive chef, Mr. Baggins.”

Bilbo doesn’t think it’s possible to get any redder. All he can do is stare numbly at Fíli, trying not to let the compliment do anything strange to his head and wondering why Fíli isn’t moving. Dwarves must really have a low sense of propriety indeed if they don’t see anything wrong with sitting so wantonly atop other people. 

And of course, Bilbo’s body is responding. He’s been semi-hard all night, despite his best efforts to the contrary. And here the most handsome man he’s ever seen has just burst into his bedroom and come to tell him nice things and sit on him, so it’s only natural that he’s growing completely hard. A second more, and Fíli’s eyes go wide, flashing with sudden recognition. He glances down between them, and Bilbo clamps his hands over his face, more embarrassed than he’s ever been in his life. 

“That was fast!” Fíli chirps, not sounding in the least bit offended. 

Bilbo, before he can stop himself, groans, “No, I was thinking of you before and—”

He wants to sink right through the floorboards and never be seen again. 

Fíli’s quiet for so long that Bilbo winds up parting his hands to peek through. Fíli’s gaping down at him, but the shock slowly ebbs into interest under Bilbo’s horrified gaze, until Fíli _rocks his hips_ experimentally, and Bilbo cries out and bucks up before he can stop himself, head turning abruptly away. He can’t bear to look at Fíli. At the same time, he wishes they were in his bed instead of on the hard floor. 

“What were you thinking about, exactly?” Fíli asks, now sounding entirely too coy for Bilbo’s liking. It’s obviously an invitation, and Bilbo doesn’t need any more temptation. 

He abruptly pushes Fíli off, shoving hard at Fíli’s broad chest and scrambling out from below. “I’ll make you some more seed-cakes,” Bilbo hurriedly promises, desperate to distract himself. “Just let me get my robe—”

Fíli gets up and follows him to the coat rack beside the door, where Bilbo slips his housecoat on over his under things. Because his hands are trembling, he fumbles too long with the sash. He’s barely gotten it together when Fíli leans over him to suggest, “I wouldn’t mind earning them, if that’s what you’re into.”

Bilbo isn’t at all sure what that means and knows better than to try and figure out. He says very firmly, “I’m a respectable hobbit!”

“And I’m a respectable dwarf,” Fíli counters, which evidently means a lot less than it would in hobbit culture. “I am a prince, you know; I’m plenty respected!”

Somehow, Bilbo didn’t know that. Maybe he wasn’t paying attention enough earlier. His head whips around, eyes raking over Fíli’s starlit silhouette with new meaning. It shouldn’t make a difference, but it _does_ , because now Fíli’s both a lewd daydream and a romanticized fairy tale. Bilbo’s partial to both sorts of fantasies. Smirking, Fíli adds, “That just means I know a good thing when I see it.”

Bilbo feels distinctly weak in the knees. He stutters, “Don’t tell any of the others I’ve cooked for you, please and thank you.” He doesn’t want to start a trend of favours to strange men, and if he’s going to behave so shamefully wanton, he at least doesn’t need anyone else knowing about it. Cooking strangers treats in the middle of the night is arguably the second farthest thing from dignified, but the first farthest thing is probably going to take place if Bilbo lingers much longer in the bedroom. Bilbo turns for the door.

Fíli leans down to murmur past Bilbo’s ear, “Of course not—I’m perfectly happy to keep you all to myself.” 

Bilbo’s head whips back around, and Fíli _kisses_ him.

Suddenly, he’s pinned up against his open door, and Fíli’s warm body is flattening into his, strong, thick hands cupping his cheeks and a large nose digging in next to his, wet lips parted around his own. His gasp has left him open for attack, and Fíli’s tongue slips so easily into his mouth, tracing his teeth and lapping against his own timid entrance. When Fíli sucks on Bilbo’s tongue, Bilbo thinks he’s going to faint. He can feel Fíli _all over_ , hot and huge and talented and like some wondrous wet dream come to life, and a prince to boot. 

By the time Fíli pulls back, Bilbo’s panting hard, his eyes half lidded and his head thoroughly dizzy. He’s breathless.

Fíli murmurs playfully, “We could always stay here for a different kind of dessert—”

But Bilbo rushes back to his senses, squeaking, “Seed-cakes!” He grabs Fíli’s wrist and promptly tugs Fíli through the door.


End file.
